


Someone To Come Home To

by pikasafire



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-26
Updated: 2013-04-26
Packaged: 2017-12-09 13:32:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/774781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pikasafire/pseuds/pikasafire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny hates his house being empty. Kris hates Claude Giroux.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Someone To Come Home To

**Author's Note:**

> A Danny/Kris established relationship story, set vague 2011 season. For masterpenguin and barefootstarz, who both requested ‘Danny/Tanger’ at different times. Because they’re freaks. 
> 
> This is a bit of a different writing style than my usual, but eh. I think it worked.

*

Maintaining a long distance relationship is difficult for most people. Maintaining a long distance relationship when Danny's got three boys and said partner is both a guy and a member of the rival hockey team? Sometimes Danny thinks he's gotta be crazy.

It's not that hard to keep it a secret, really. Pittsburgh's not that far away; close enough that the rare weekends they both have off can be spent together, and the not-quite-a-lie of 'a friend in the city' after games against each other is generally enough to get them out of team celebrations so they can spend the night together.

Danny's just glad that neither him or Kris attracts that much media attention; not in comparison with Claude and Sidney anyway.

"Kris!" Cameron shouts, throwing himself down the stairs at the sound of a key in the lock.

"No running in the house!" Danny shouts after him. It's pretty pointless, it's not like Cam's listening. He can hear the overly noisy stomping sounds of the other boys following him down the stairs, and excited chatter in the entry.

Danny grins to himself. Even after so many years, the routine hasn't changed. He follows the shouting, leans in the doorway between the entry and the living room, watching his kids pepper Kris with questions and demands, friendly chirping about the most recent game. He waits there until Kris says, every time, with the same fond exasperation, "Are you guys going to actually let me in the house and say hello to your Dad?"

The boys groan, but shift obediently so Kris can wade through, give Danny a quiet little smile, "Hey," he murmurs, leaning in for a quick kiss. The boys all make varied noises of disgust in the background, and the fact that this is so set, ingrained as a tradition, makes Danny grin back.

"Hey," he grins, "Boys done filling you in on everything?"

"I caught maybe five words?"

"Five, eh? Not bad."

*

It's been two years of the same jokes, the quiet, domestic little bubble they've built for themselves - an easy, effortless relationship and its getting harder to remember a point in time where Kris hasn't been the one Danny calls when the kids are sick or when things get a little bit overwhelming.

And then Claude moves in.

It's not like it was planned, as such. The house echoes when the boys are with Sylvie, it's dark and empty and Danny _hates_ it. And it's not like Kris can move in - he's there as often as he can be, but he's not going to leave the Penguins - not now. Danny's a grown up, he should be able to deal with it.

And then Claude's there all the time - all easy smiles and weird sense of humor and speaks French like that little piece of home. The boys love him and there's the space, and so, he moves in. It makes the silence a little easier to bear.

Kris isn't happy about it. It's a bit of an understatement; hissed, angry phone calls and fights like there hasn't been since the beginning.

"It's temporary." Danny repeats for the fiftieth time.

"And what are we going to do when I come to stay?" Kris' tone is dangerous, threatens another big argument, "I'm not sleeping on the couch. Not to mention, what are you going to tell Giroux when he realizes who I am and that we're together?"

Danny doesn't really know what to say to that, fumbles through an answer, "I'll figure it out. It'll be okay, I promise."

*

Danny's plan seems to consist of an awkward conversation with Claude the night before Kris is due to arrive.

"Um, Claude. I don't know if you know this, but. Um. I'm seeing someone."

Claude rolls his eyes, "You know all those jokes the guys make about you being the wife in our relationship are just jokes, right? I'm not actually gay. Or interested in dating you."

"I know, but." He chews his lip, takes a breath. "I am. And there's someone. And. Uh, it’s a guy." He's pretty sure Claude's going to be okay with it, especially since he's only a rookie. But, it's hard to be sure.

"Oh," Claude blinks, "Alright. How did I not know that? Why are you telling me this?"

There's not really a nice way of putting it. "He's from out of town," Danny says, not quite meeting Claude's eyes because he's a shitty liar and he knows it. "He's coming around this weekend..." He lets himself trail off, hoping Claude will just fill in the blanks.

"You've got the boys this weekend, dude. Is that why you're telling me? You need me to, like, babysit?"

"What? No. Kr- He knows the boys, we've been together awhile. I just wanted to see if maybe you could, I don't know," he shrugs awkwardly, "Stay with Simmer, maybe?"

There's a silence. "Why can't I meet him? I'm not going to, like, beat him up or anything. Or stop you from getting laid. Well, unless he hurts you."

Danny has to smother a laugh at the thought of Claude taking on Kris, "No one’s met him. It's... complicated." He says, struggling to find an excuse, "Just, not this time. Please?"

Claude sighs, "Being sexiled for a whole weekend," he grumbles, "You better cook me dinner on Monday to make up for it."

"Anything you want."

*

Kris is less impressed with Danny's genius plan. "Jesus, Danny." He sighs. They're sprawled on the couch, Danny's feet in Kris' lap and the kids already in bed. Kris rubs Danny's ankle to take the sting out of his words, "What the hell made you think that would work? What are you going to say next time?

"It's _temporary_ -"

"I don't like Claude living here." Kris says bluntly. He’s not one for beating around the bush.

Danny just stares at him for a moment, "That came out of left field.”

"What?" Kris demands, "We've fought about this, like, fifteen times."

"I like him living here," Danny says stubbornly, "It's too quiet living here on my own when the boys are with Sylvie. And it's not like any of the media shit is true. You know that." He tries to pull away, put some distance between them, but Kris holds on tight.

"What I _know_ is that I don't get to see you nearly as much as I want to. And then I get all this media shit in my face about you and Claude playing at happy families."

"So?" Danny asks, cluelessly. "You know it's all lies." He smiles a little, "Claude doesn't even know how to use a dishwasher, for one. And he definitely can't cook."

It stings and it's enough for Kris to lose his temper enough to actually _say_ it, "So, it's not fucking fair, Danny. I love you, and I love the kids and I'm on the other side of the state, while Claude gets to live here and do all the things I wish I could."

"So, what? I have to live alone because you're jealous? Are you fifteen?"

"I didn't say that." This is getting out of control, and seriously, surely Danny can't be that dense.

"Well, what do you want me to do?" Danny asks defensively.

Kris takes a breath, "Well, you could always move teams-"

"Don't even start." Danny warns. "Not happening. The boys are settled here."

They fall into a cold silence, both of them sitting uncomfortably, muscles tense. "Look," Danny says, he sounds exhausted, "How about we go to bed, and we'll talk about it tomorrow. We're both tired."

It's as close to a truce as Kris is going to get and so he sighs, leans over to press a gentle kiss to Danny's mouth. "Yeah, okay."

*

Kris makes breakfast the next morning because it's a Saturday and he always does.

Danny wakes up to the over-excited shouting of Cam and Caelan apparently trying to murder each other on the stairs, and the smell of pancakes. He stretches, blinking sleep away from his eyes, before fishing around on the floor for his sweats. He takes his time, relishing in the luxury, content that someone else is making sure the boys don't kill each other.

He heads downstairs to the kitchen when he's ready. "Sorry I slept so late," Danny murmurs, resting his hands on Kris' hips and standing on his toes to press a kiss to the nape of his neck. "You should have woken me up."

"Hey," Kris turns, pulls Danny against his side and kisses him properly, "You didn't have to get up yet," he murmurs. "I was going to bring you breakfast in bed. Coffee?"

"Ugh," Carson complains, "Why are you guys always so gross?"

"Yeah! Pancakes!" Cameron demands, bouncing around the kitchen like a lunatic

Kris salutes him with the spatula, grinning, "Yes, sir." He gives Danny another quick kiss, "Love you." He murmurs before turning his attention back to the stovetop.

They haven't forgotten their argument, but they've gotten used to leaving them for later. They don't have the time to spare to fight like normal couples. Danny watches him for a moment, smiling, before moving around him to fiddle with the coffee machine, pulling two mugs out of the cupboard.

"Dad, can I have coffee?"

"You're only thirteen, Cam." Danny's pretty sure he's has this conversation a million times.

"That's old enough for coffee!"

Danny rolls his eyes, glances over at Kris, who's doing a terrible job at smothering his laughter. "You know what. Alright, you can have some." He grins, "I'm sure Kris would love to play some knee hockey with you later to work the caffeine out of your system, yeah?"

"Ooh, that's mean, Danny B." Kris says, mock hurt. He flips a pancake with expert finesse, "Cam, is the table ready?"

"Yup."

"Awesome." Kris tosses the final pancake onto the enormous stack that's next to the stove, "Breakfast is served." 

It's the kind of comfortable that makes Danny's chest ache. Sitting around the table with his boys -- they're so grown up now -- Kris sitting across from him, watching him with a knowing smile on his face. He kicks Danny lightly under the table, and Danny pulls a face, kicks him back. Sometimes, the fact that he can't have this all the time bothers him.

"Ugh, could you guys stop making goo-goo eyes at each other," Carson whines, "You're making me lose my appetite."

Danny ignores him. "What are you guys doing today?" He asks instead.

The sound of the door opening makes them all freeze. “Hey, Danny!” Claude shouts from the hall, “I’m just getting my toque.”

Danny stares over at Kris, panic on both of their faces. _Shit_. “Boys, can you go upstairs please?”

The boys all look at each other and scatter, leaving half eaten plates of pancakes on the table. They don’t go far - Danny can see Caelan’s head poking around the corner.

Claude wanders into the kitchen with a frown, “Hey, did I leave my -” He stops in his tracks at the sight of Kris at the table. “What the fuck are _you_ doing here?”

“Claude-” Danny’s at a loss. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

“He’s the guy?” Claude demands furiously, his neck and face flushed with anger, “This is why you asked me to stay away?”

Kris stands up, drawing himself up to full height, “Don’t talk to him like that.”

“Kris, you’re not helping. Claude, sit down.” He turns to the doorway, raising his voice a little, “Boys, I told you to go upstairs.” There’s quiet muttering and the sound of retreating footsteps and Danny turns back to Kris and Claude. _Fuck_. He takes a deep breath. “Claude. Kris and I have been together for a few years now.”

“ _Years_?”

“Yes, years.” Kris snaps.

Danny puts a hand on his shoulder to calm him, “Yes.” He pauses. “Do you see why we’ve kept it a secret?”

“You. And _him_. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Claude takes a breath, “Jesus, Danny. Who else knows?”

Danny shrugs, a little awkward. “Chris. Sid. Max. That’s about it, I think.”

“Geno.” Kris says

“Geno knows?” Danny asks, surprised.

Kris tilts his head to grin up at him, “Sid knows. Of course Geno knows.” It’s a quiet little in joke and Claude makes a horrified little noise from the other end of the table.

“Oh God, you guys aren’t kidding.” Claude moans, dropping his head into his hands, “What the fuck?”

Danny can feel the way Kris’ muscles tense under his hand, gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I got it,” he murmurs, stepping over to Claude. “Hey.” He says quietly, waits for Claude to look up. “Are you okay with this?” Danny can hear Kris making mutinous muttering noises behind him and hopes like hell he’s got the brains to stay quiet.

“I don’t care that he’s a dude, if that’s what you’re asking,” Claude snaps, scowling. “The fact it’s _Kris fucking Letang_ is something else entirely.” Danny stays silent, just looking at him and Claude sighs. “Whatever.” He mutters. “I think your taste in men fucking _sucks_ , but I’m not going to, like, make life difficult for you or tell anyone or anything.”

That’s what Danny was after. “Thanks.” He says, giving Claude a smile. “That’s all I want.”

“You’ll tell me if he does something wrong though, right?” Claude adds, “So I can be the first to beat the shit out of him?”

Kris laughs, a sharp, cutting edge to it, “You’re always welcome to try.”

Danny gives him a look. “Claude, you can leave now. I hope your curiosity is satisfied.” It’s biting, and Claude looks a little embarrassed.

“I swear I was just looking for my toque,” he insists, unconvincingly. But he stands to leave anyway. “Hurt him and I’ll fucking kill you,” he tells Kris, before turning his back and leaving.

Danny waits until he’s heard the front door close before turning to Kris. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I didn’t think he would be stupid enough to do that.”

“It’s Claude Giroux.” Kris points out. “Of course he’s that fucking stupid.”

“Don’t.” Danny snaps, bristling. “Claude’s off limits. You know that.”

Kris sighs, reaches out to pull Danny close, wraps an arm around his waist as an apology. "Call the boys back, their pancakes are going cold."

*

Danny hates Kris leaving. He hates it even more when things are still unresolved, tense and uncertain between them.

"I love you," Kris murmurs, pressing a kiss to Danny's mouth as they stand by the door, Kris' bag already slung over his shoulder. Another comforting routine as the boys mill around them.

"Love you too," Danny says, gives Kris another quick kiss before stepping back to let the boys all hug Kris goodbye. "See you in a few weeks."

The boys all vanish upstairs after Kris goes, and Danny stands in the empty hall, his shoulders slumping.

*

"So," Claude says, voice tinny through the phone line, "Can I come home yet?"

Danny's never been so grateful to hear Claude's voice, feeling lonely and empty like he always does when Kris leaves. "Yeah. You can come home."

"Awesome." There's the sound of the front door opening, "Because I'm already here." The echo from the entry and the phone, and then the click of disconnection. "Just wanted to make sure I wasn't going to walk into any weird shit." He says as he walks into the lounge. "Letang gone?"

"Yeah." Danny tries not to sound too maudlin about it. Fails miserably if the look on Claude's face is anything to go by.

Claude just throws himself into the armchair, “You guys have been together a while then?” He asks.

Danny eyes him, looking for any signs of mocking or ulterior motives. “Yeah. Almost two years.”

“Must be tough.” Claude says, “Having him so far away all the time.”

It’s enough to make Danny glance up, frowning at the lack of sarcasm in Claude’s voice. “Yeah.” He says, feeling tired and older than he is. “It really is.”

*

It’s weird; months of Danny disappearing for weekends, Kris appearing in the house. Danny’s stopped exiling him, but Claude makes himself scarce anyway; it always feels a little like intruding when it’s all of them crowded around the kitchen table, arguing over pizza or domestic bubbles of homework time. Claude doesn’t belong there.

But even Claude’s noticed the phone calls. The ones where Danny doesn’t come in smiling, the ones where he looks tired and sad afterwards.

“You and Kris are fighting.” He says a few months later. It’s not a question, and Danny slumps onto the lounge, phone dangling from his hand.

“He’s jealous of you.” Danny says. He’s sick of this argument, he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to _do_.

Claude looks taken aback. “Of me? Why the fuck would be be jealous of me? Y’know. Except for my awesome hockey skills.”

“You live here.” Danny says, like it’s obvious. And now that Claude thinks about it, maybe it is.

“So?” He’s missing something.

Danny sighs, “So, Kris hates you-” He waves a hand, “No offence.”

“The feeling is entirely mutual.”

“-And you live here with me and the boys and there’s all the jokes in the media that Kris hears and he _knows_ they’re not true. But.” He shrugs, “They upset him anyway.”

Well, this is awkward. “Look. I can move out, if it would help.” Claude offers hesitantly. “I mean, I hate the guy, but.” He shrugs, “I don’t want to get between you guys or anything.”

“It’s not that.” Danny looks uncomfortable. “I like you being here. I don’t like living here all on my own.”

 _Oh_. Claude knows Danny’s lonely. And Claude knew on some level that he was filling that space for him, that there was more to Danny’s insistence that Claude move in. “Would it help if I said something to him?” He asks after a moment.

Danny shakes his head. “Probably not.” He sighs, waves a vague hand. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll sort it out. Wanna watch a movie?”

“Sure.” They put on some shitty action film, and that’s all that’s said.

*

Claude can’t stop thinking about it. He supposes that if he was in the same position as Letang, he’d probably be pretty jealous if his boyfriend shacked up with another dude, just friends or not. But, what the fuck is Claude supposed to do about it?

He steals Danny’s phone when he’s cooking dinner, smuggles it out of the kitchen until he’s hiding in the upstairs hallway. He knows Danny said it probably wouldn’t help, but it can’t hurt either, right?

It rings three times before Kris answers. “Hey,” sounding warm and pleased and Claude clears his throat, feeling a little uncomfortable.

“It’s Claude.”

Kris’ tone changes automatically, quick and panicked. “Is Danny okay? The boys?”

“What?” Claude frowns, confused. “Yeah, they’re fine. I just wanted to talk to you and it was easier just to steal Danny’s phone than it would’ve been to steal your number.”

Kris lets out a relieved breath, cold and curt when he speaks next, “What do you want?”

“Danny-” Claude breaks off. He really didn’t think this through. He’s got no idea how to say this. “You know me and Danny, we’re not, like, together, right?”

“Of course I fucking do.” Kris snaps, “You think you’d still be alive if I didn’t?”

Claude rolls his eyes. “You don’t share well,” He says, a flippant observation that really doesn’t do anything to improve Kris’ mood.

“Get to your fucking point, Giroux.”

“I just.” There’s no easy way to say it, “I know you guys have been fighting. I just wanted to know if I could... help?”

Kris laughs bitterly, “How the fuck could you _help_? And why would _you_ want to?”

Claude shrugs, then, realising Kris can’t actually see him, “I don’t know. Just. He’s lonely. And I think his taste in men is fucking terrible, but for some weird reason, he likes you and he’s really fucking miserable right now.” 

He must’ve said something magical because Kris’ tone is softer when he speaks. “I know.” He sighs, “I don’t know.” He sounds worried, “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine. Just. Let me know if I can do anything.” Claude says. “And stop reading the fucking Philly media. It’s full of shit.” 

“Yeah. Okay.” And then there’s the sound of a dial tone.

Rude fucker.

*

Of the things Kris hates most about long distance, it’s the injuries that are the worst.

Sid tells him, pulls him aside after the game before he can check his phone. “Danny’s hurt.” He says, “Don’t panic.”

It’s like telling someone with a head wound to stop bleeding - annoying and pointless. “What?” Kris snaps, fumbling for his phone. “What happened? Is he okay?”

“Concussion, they think. Bad hit.”

Kris frowns, finally managing to pull his phone out. He’s got about eight missed calls from various people; the boys and Danny included.

Sid shrugs, “Look. You’ve got some time. We’ve got a day off tomorrow. Go check on him.”

Kris just nods, gathering his gear. Like Sid would have been able to stop him.

*

The house is quiet when Kris lets himself in, dropping his bag by the front door and taking the steps two at a time to Danny’s bedroom. The door’s cracked, and Kris creeps in silently, the tightness in his chest easing a little at seeing Danny sleeping, slow, deep breaths. He can’t quite resist easing himself carefully on to the edge of the bed, pressing a kiss to Danny’s cheek.

Danny stirs, reaching out. “Kris?”

“Hey.” He pushes a lock of hair off Dany’s forehead, “Yeah, it’s just me. Go back to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.” He sits, watching Danny’s eyes close again, heart heavy. Sometimes long-distance really fucking sucks. 

He’s got the creepy sensation of being watched and Kris turns, seeing Claude loitering awkwardly in the doorway.

Claude gives a shrug, gestures for Kris to follow him, silent until they reach the kitchen. “Thought you might come.” Claude says when they’re out of earshot, “Sylvie’s got the kids. Coffee?”

“I know.” Kris says, “I called her on my way here. She’ll keep them until the weekend.”

If Claude’s surprised, he doesn’t show it. “Danny’s okay. It’s not too bad.” He busies himself with the coffee machine, and Kris is too tired to point out to Claude that he’s doing it wrong. “Hopefully he won’t be out long.”

“Sid said it was a bad hit.”

“I didn’t really see it. I was on the ice at the time.” Claude doesn’t seem overly concerned and it makes anger well in Kris’ stomach, frustration, the feeling of being _useless_. Claude continues talking, oblivious. “He got off the ice okay, bit dizzy. He’ll be out for at least a week.”

Kris nods, jerkily. “You’ll look after him for me?” He hates asking, he hates that he can’t be the one to stay.

“Of course.” Claude says, pushing a bitter coffee across the counter toward Kris.

*

It’s an uneasy truce between Kris and Claude.

Kris and Danny are still fighting, but it’s less frequent; sad rather than angry.

“Look. I should move.” Claude says as the regular season starts drawing to an end, feeling awkward. “I mean, not just because of you and Kris.” He tears the crusts off his toast to avoid looking at Danny, “But for me too, y’know?”

“Yeah.” Danny just sounds resigned and Claude’s pretty sure that’s worse than anger.

“Look.” Claude’s been thinking about this a lot. “What about Couts?”

Danny shrugs, pokes at his breakfast. “What about him?”

Claude shrugs, “Ask him to move in. He’s a rookie. He’s gonna need somewhere to live. He speaks French.”

“I’m not a charity case, Claude.” Danny says, a dangerous tone to his voice.

“It’s-” He searches for the right word. “It’ll be different with Sean. He’s still a kid.”

“Coz you’re _so old_.” Danny mocks, more of an edge than normal.

Claude lets it go, but rolls his eyes. “Come on. Couts is closer to _Caelan’s_ age than yours.”

“... Thanks for that lovely piece of information.” Danny says, looking sour. “That makes me feel excellent about my age.”

“You’re not _getting it_ , Jesus fucking Christ.” Claude snaps, “Get Couts to move in. You’ll have someone in the spare room,” _You won’t be lonely_ , “Kris can’t be mad because Couts is just a kid. There’s no way you’ll get the same married jokes.” 

It actually makes a lot of sense. “I’ll think about it.” Danny says, still sullen.

Claude just rolls his eyes. He’s a genius.

*

Danny and Kris curl up on the big couch, the kids are in bed, both of them full and sleepy, bone exhausted from the end of the season, the brief lull before Playoffs.

“I’ve missed you.” Kris says, murmured against Danny’s temple. “I hate being so far away.”

“Soon.” Danny promises, presses himself a little closer to Kris’ warmth. “Just a few more years, yeah? And I’ll move.”

Kris pulls back a little so he can see Danny’s face, startled. “You’ll move? To Pittsburgh?”

Danny nods, “Not right now, but when I retire. I’m sick of long-distance.”

“I hear that,” Kris says feelingly, pulls Danny close again. “A few more years.”

There’s a comfortable silence for a while, both of them half dozing. “Claude’s moving out after Playoffs.” Danny murmurs.

“Really?” Kris knows he should probably be less happy about this but can’t quite help the relief that goes through him. “Are you sure you want him to?”

“Figured I’d take in one of the rookies. Claude’s got a big contract now anyway, wants to spread his wings a little. And Couts’ll need somewhere to live.”

“He’s the gangly, ginger one, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

There’s a lot unsaid, warm and comforting and Kris just shifts a little, presses a soft kiss to Danny’s mouth, “Sounds good.”

*

END


End file.
